


Been a Long Time Comin'

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Miami Vice (TV), Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Is it really the end for Sonny and Rico?  Sam needs to tie up loose ends... and prevent mistakes from being made.  Along the way he finds out a few things about himself, too.(How the end should have been).





	Been a Long Time Comin'

**Author's Note:**

> The one where I leap Sam into Miami Vice, "to put right what once went wrong." Follows the last episode of Miami Vice. With a nod to Jack Gretsky/Martin Castillo...since Dean Stockwell played Jack I couldn't resist.  
> Written in 1994... I really don't remember if it was ever published in any zine...

_I could have stood there, lost in your eyes_

_Stood there waiting, and not realized_

_Love isn't easy, it isn't always kind_

_I could have stood there_

_Lost in your eyes...*_

The first thing Sam Beckett noticed when he leaped in was the rumble of an engine. For a moment it almost seemed to be vibrating through him. He blinked to shake off the disorientation, and his surroundings came into clearer focus. He was sitting in the passenger seat of an expensive-looking sports car--thank god, it was most unsettling to leap in behind the wheel of a car in motion.

Sam glanced at the driver. He looked in the thirtyish range, and had long, dirty blond hair. Dark glasses hid his eyes, his attention was focused on navigating the city street. He was wearing a white jacket, jeans, and a blue University of Kansas T-shirt.

Warm tropic air blew in from the open window and palm trees lined the street, flashing past as they cruised along. The license plate of a station wagon in front of them told Sam he was somewhere in Florida. Then, as they passed an intersection, he saw that they were driving along Biscayne Boulevard. His Swiss-cheesed brain decided to cooperate by giving him a city. Miami.

Since his companion remained silent, Sam was free to continue to the next thing on his personal leap-in checklist. He gazed into the rear view mirror. An agreeable-looking black man gazed back at him, with a smooth, friendly face, and honest eyes.

Sam relaxed, leaning back in the seat and enjoying the ocean breeze on his face. It was a huge relief not to be dumped into the middle of a chaotic situation for a change. Pleasant surroundings, a chance to catch his breath and learn his role...maybe it was going to be an easy leap. He allowed himself some self-congratulation on his powers of deduction. Of course he still didn't know who he was, where they were going...or what he was there to do. For the last, most important thing, he'd have to wait for Al to appear. As for the rest, he needed more to go on. If only his companion would speak...

As if reading his mind, the man beside him spoke up abruptly. "Do you have time for a drink before your plane leaves? One for the road?" he chuckled slightly, but Sam sensed an underlying...sadness in his voice.

"Uh..." the tone, plus his unfamiliarity with the situation, decided him on his answer. "Yeah, I guess so. Sure."

"Good." The man flashed him a smile.

Sam found himself smiling back, instinctively liking the guy.

The rest of the ride was made in silence. Without any further clues from the man beside him, Sam didn't know enough to gauge whether it was a comfortable silence. He pondered possible lines of conversation, but still hadn't settled on any by the time they pulled into a parking lot.

The place was part bar, part restaurant, with a motel attached. It was dark and cool inside. Ceiling fans circulated the air, and cast moody shadows over the decor. Their table was in a spot of sunlight by a window, with a beautiful view of the ocean.

A waiter appeared almost immediately. As his companion ordered a bourbon and a beer, Sam knew a panicked moment of wondering what his host's usual drink was. Too soon, they were both looking at him, waiting for his order.

"Uh...the same," Sam mumbled. The waiter nodded and left.

His friend raised an eyebrow at him. "Are we celebrating?"

"I don't know," Sam answered truthfully.

"Yeah, me either, Rico," the blond said, and grinned. When he removed his sunglasses, Sam saw the grin didn't reach his eyes. They almost seemed...desolate. He didn't speak again until the drinks had come, then, he raised his glass of liquor. "What shall we toast?"

Sam floundered. "Miami?" he finally said, for want of anything better.

There was a bark of sarcastic laughter. "Yeah, Miami Vice. Here's to the end of an era." They touched glasses. The man downed half of his in one gulp while Sam sipped at his cautiously, trying not to gag.

That elusive _something_ had been in his companion's voice again, and Sam wondered what he was picking up on.

The man turned away, staring out toward the ocean. "It's funny. There were plenty of times I thought I couldn't take any more, that I'd pack it in. Times I figured I wouldn't live long enough to collect my pension. Times I really thought it was over." He smiled briefly, and Sam was surprised to find his heart lurch at the sight. "But at the start of this damned case, I wouldn't have ever guessed... This is almost anti-climactic."

In a flash of insight, the pieces fell into place. Sam recognized the signs, experience gained from leaping. The man was--or had been--a policeman. Apparently with Miami Vice.

Sam felt he was expected to say something. He chose his words carefully. "Most of life's biggest changes sneak up on us almost without our even being aware of it."

"Tell me about it. Ah, it was inevitable, though," he said, tossing back the rest of his drink. "Like death and taxes."

"At least you made it out alive," Sam answered quietly, figuring that a safe comment.

The man fixed him with a level gaze. "So did you, my friend. That premonition of yours about dying never came true." There was a ghost of some memory in the troubled brown eyes.

"The day's young," Sam said expansively and casually...and quite unexpectedly, almost as if it had come from Rico, rather than himself.

The man threw his head back and laughed. It was a pleasant sound, and Sam was relieved. Whatever he'd said, it had been the right thing to dispel the air of depression that hung around his companion. "Who wants to live forever, right? That's what you told me when you convinced me to take the case."

"I guess I changed my mind," Sam said, managing to follow the conversation.

"Maybe that's why it's so anti-climactic. By all rights, we never should have gotten out of there alive."

"But we did. And we're here."

"Yeah. Here." The man's mood inexplicable darkened again.

Before Sam had a chance to figure out his next move, he heard the sound that always made him weak in the knees with relief. The Imaging Chamber door.

Al Calavicci, Sam's partner and holographic guide, stood before him, wearing pastel green pants with a matching jacket, and a pastel orange shirt. He reminded Sam of some of the art deco buildings they'd passed by. Al often altered his style of dress to fit in with the leap.

"Hi, Sam."

"I have to go to the bathroom," he immediately informed his corporeal companion.

Al sighed and followed him into the rest room. Luckily there was only one person inside, Sam waited while he finished washing his hands.

"Y'know, I'm getting really sick and tired of this men's room stuff, Sam. Really," Al complained.

"You have a better idea of where I can talk to you in private?" Sam hissed when the man had left. "I'm all ears." When Al remained silent, he continued. "Okay, what's up this time?"

Al consulted the hand-link to Ziggy. "Well, you're a former Miami Vice cop named Ricardo Tubbs. Your ex-partner out there is James Crockett, known as Sonny. Seems the two of you got involved in a big case that went sour... I don't know the details, the big boys were involved and it's not going to be easy to find out, even in my time."

"Big boys?"

"CIA, Feds, like that."

"Why did we--they quite the force?"

Al shrugged. "The official record is a white-wash. But if I was to guess, I'd say that they got screwed. You see it all the time on TV, the street cop's sense of justice verses the 'good of the nation' kind of crap. I'll try to come up with more, but don't get your hopes up."

"Crockett said something about me having plane tickets. So we're having a last drink together before going our separate ways? Does Ziggy have any idea why I'm here?" Sam asked, praying he'd be able to get through this leap without being shot at.

"Well... Nothing much so far. Originally, Tubbs went back to New York City, where he's from, and re-joined the NYPD. He died in a drug bust, two years later."

"Maybe I'm here to keep him from going back," Sam suggested.

"Good guess," Al agreed. He peered at the hand-link. "But Ziggy says that's not exactly it."

Sam checked his pockets, coming up with an airline folder.

"When's your plane leave?" Al asked.

"It doesn't matter." Sam held it up so Al could see. "It's an open ticket.

"Interesting. Maybe Tubbs doesn't want to leave."

"Maybe Crockett doesn't want him too, either," Sam suggested, remembering the man's melancholy mood. "What do you have on _him_?"

"Nothing much," Al answered. "He goes down to Key West and bums around for three months. Then his former boss, a Lieutenant Martin Castillo, pays him a visit. Sonny ends up returning to Miami. Don't have much data on him after that."

"If I try to change Tubbs' decision to leave, I might be changing Crockett's life too...and we're not even sure that's what I'm here to do. I need you to get me more information, Al. "

"I'll do my best. Until then, stick with Crockett."

"Talk to Tubbs, too," Sam told him.

"Tubbs," Al snorted, "thinks he's been kidnapped by 'The Company'. He wants to know what game we're playing this time, and where his partner is. I don't think he's gonna tell us anything."

"Great."

"Oh...hey, here's an interesting item. You remember the time you leaped into that pregnant girl?"

"Yeah, so?" Sam asked, baffled by the apparent non-sequitur...and not anxious to be reminded of that particular leap.

"Remember her name? Billy Jean Crockett. She's a distant relation of Sonny's."

"I need serious information about why I'm here, and that's the kind of stuff Ziggy comes up with?!" Sam demanded.

"Well, _I_ thought it was interesting," Al said, and stepped through his doorway to disappear into the future.

XXX

Sticking with Crockett was easy enough. When Sam returned to the table, he suggested they order dinner. Talk was sparse while they ate, but the booze flowed freely, especially where Sonny was concerned. The situation reminded him of memories of his own, his friendship with Al. He could see someone who was headed for a serious drinking problem. And Sam truly didn't want that to happen, no matter what his reason for the leap.

One thing he'd confirmed amid the snatches of vague information he'd gleaned during the meal...he cared about what was going to happen to Sonny. He was intrigued by the man, felt drawn to him from the moment their eyes had met. And Sonny was personable, had a sense of humor even about the bad times, although it was usually wry. He was easy to talk to, and even his voice was somehow soothing to listen to.

The last time someone had affected Sam this deeply from the first meeting...it was Al.

XXX

After dinner they ended up taking a walk on the beach, supposedly so Sonny could 'clear his head' before getting back into the car to drive Tubbs to the airport. The fact that he'd brought a bottle with him defeated the purpose. That was okay anyway, Sam's main purpose was to get Sonny to talk.

They sat side-by-side on the steps leading off the beach, passing the bottle back and forth. Sam only pretended to indulge with Sonny, in reality taking only small sips. His companion seemed to be in an introspective mood. Rather than push things, Sam waited for him to open up on his own. It wasn't a long wait.

"Do you have any regrets about this?" Sonny asked.

"Do you?"

"I wanted so much to believe again. When you came to me and said you wanted to take the case...to bust a bunch of major players and really make a _difference_ for once... I really wanted to believe in the idealism you still had. But I lost it a long time ago, Rico. And when it all blew up in our faces...I knew that was the end for me. Like I told Castillo, it'd been a long time coming. I guess he knew, that's why he didn't do more to try and stop us. He knew..." Sonny trailed off, taking another generous slug of the liquor. There was a long period of silence when nothing else seemed forthcoming.

"Hey," Sam said gently. "If we're gonna be partying, maybe we oughta plan on sleeping it off right here." He never let friends drive drunk...especially when he still needed time to find out why he'd leaped in.

"What about your plane?" Sonny asked, looking him straight in the eye.

"There are always planes."

XXX

They were given a two-room suite done in the art-deco that Miami was famous for. Lots of soft shades and modern furnishings. Sonny wandered almost aimlessly around the room, going out onto the balcony, then back inside to fix himself a drink.

"Want another?" he asked Sam.

"No, I've had enough." He had to make Sonny talk about why he felt a need to get plastered...even if that wasn't why he was there. "Listen, Sonny--"

"Sam--we gotta talk. Now."

Sam sighed at Al's interruption. Sonny was looking at him, waiting. "Finish making your drink. I gotta use the john."

"Has Ziggy figured out why I'm here?" Sam asked when they were alone behind the closed door.

"He..." Al stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth still hanging open. He blinked several times, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the link.

Sam didn't like the looks of it. "What?" he demanded.

"Apparently you're uh, here to uh..." Al stammered, more uncomfortable than Sam could ever remember seeing him.

And that scared him, big time. A lump of ice settled itself in his stomach. If Al was this reluctant to tell him...

"No!" Sam announced as firmly as he could muster. Through all his leaping, Al had been his constant, the symbolic steady hand on his shoulder. He'd become very sensitive to Al's moods concerning the leaps.

"No...what?" Al looked up, startled.

"I won't do it!"

"Do what?" Al began warily. "I haven't said anything yet, how could you possibly know--"

"Whatever it is--climbing a mountain, hanging upside-down by my toenails, taking on a herd of hungry buffalo--"

"A herd of hungry _what_??"

"--I refuse to do it!" Sam concluded with a flourish, ignoring Al's question.

"Chill out, will ya?!" Sam's outburst seemed to have helped Al regain his own cool. "It's not that bad...I don't _think_ ," he added, uncertainly.

Just tell me," Sam said wearily.

Al took one deep breath. "You're here to get Crockett and Tubbs together," he said.

"Save the partnership, you mean."

"No, get them _together_ ," Al repeated, putting an unusual emphasis on the last word.

"Al, this is ridiculous. Just tell me exactly what you're talking about!"

"Physically. Sexually. Romantically. Carnally. You're here to sleep with him."

Absolute silence reigned for an endless moment.

"I'm here to _what_??" Sam screeched, staring at him in complete and utter disbelief.

Al deemed not to be redundant.

"You have a sick sense of humor."

"Don't kill the messenger for the message," Al complained, holding the link so Sam could see. "I don't like it any better than you do, but Ziggy gives it a 95%."

"I don't believe it. Ziggy's been wrong before. Find me another scenario," Sam stated firmly.

"I've tried," Al said. "Don't tell me you're a homophobe, after how you got on _my_ case..."

"There's a difference between being liberal and sleeping with another man!" Al shrugged. "What else does Ziggy have to say?" Sam asked, not sure he really wanted to know. For the time being, he couldn't believe what he'd been told. "What about Crockett?"

"In the original history, Castillo convinced Crockett to come back to Miami. There was rumor--not solid facts--that they were sleeping together. From the looks of things, it wasn't a first for Castillo. Crockett never went back to police work, though. He got a job as a bartender, started drinking heavily. He became a real mess. Apparently they broke up, no data on why. It's not a tragedy, on the other hand, it's not a great life, either. He disappeared after that."

"This is a soap opera! You're telling me I'm here to get Rico and Sonny together so he doesn't have an affair with Castillo?!"

"Guess that's why they call it Miami _Vice_ ," Al snickered.

"Okay, Al," Sam began, taking charge and feeling somewhat better for it. "Get me all the information you can on these guys. And make Tubbs talk to you, too! I want to know how he feels about all this."

"And you want it yesterday," Al grumbled, calling up the IC door. "Some things never change," he mumbled under his breath, then disappeared.

XXX

Sam returned to the other room, watching Sonny nervously with a new, understanding eye. The man was standing out on the balcony, staring off into space.

Sam made himself a drink after all, joining him outside.

There was a very real possibility that before this leap was over, Sam was going to have to have sex with another man. He took a deep breath, reining in his panic. He fought to keep cool, logical. He'd never been prejudiced against alternative lifestyles, he wasn't homophobic. And he'd been in tight spots before, forced to do things that could have been considered worse than this.

He watched Sonny surreptitiously. The man certainly wasn't hard on the eyes, quite the contrary. Undeniably masculine. His long, wavy hair framed his face, softening features that had seen the worst of life. He had a nice, compact body, a great ass. Eyes that you could get lost in, as they drew you to his soul. Ruggedly handsome, but with a hint of vulnerability seething below the surface. Rough but sexy voice. When he smiled, it lit up his face, making him look boyish in spite of the roughness. Even his beard stubble was sexy. Suntanned...

Sam mentally shook himself, cutting off the startling thoughts firmly. What was happening to him?! He wondered if it was possible that he'd gotten some of Tubbs' neurons and mesons...it had happened before, but not so disturbingly...

"Sonny..."

"Yeah?" eyes turned to him, and he almost took a step back. The pain in them was palpable, made him almost want to reach out and take the man into his arms.

Sam chose his words carefully. "If you don't regret your decision, why are you drowning it in booze?"

"I guess..." Sonny turned away again. "I guess I feel like there isn't anything left at all."

"It could be a new beginning."

Sonny snorted. "My partner, the eternal optimist. Sorry, I mean my ex-partner."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but he honestly didn't know what to say. The knowledge Al had given him colored the way he saw everything now, the way he responded. So he remained silent, which apparently wasn't the right response.

Sonny turned from the view abruptly. "I smell like a cheap Country-Western bar, I'm gonna grab a shower." Without another word, he disappeared inside.

Sam wasn't left alone with his thoughts for very long. Soon after the shower started, Al returned.

"Well?" Sam hissed. "What else have you found out?"

"You're not gonna like it," Al warned.

"My patience with this ludicrous situation--and you--is wearing thin," Sam counter-warned.

"This guy Castillo killed his ex-partner."

" _What?_!" Sam had been prepared for a lot of things, but that hadn't been one of them.

"He's really into this Shogun stuff--" Sam gave him an exasperated look. "You know what I mean--the kinda stuff you were into, only more extreme. Martial arts, death before dishonor, the whole nine yards. Anyway, Castillo and Jack fought together in Cambodia, they made one hell of a team. Both with 'The Company', top secret stuff. They finally got unlucky. Castillo was badly wounded and sent for medical treatment. They told him Jack was dead, but a couple of years ago he showed up in Miami. The Company told Castillo he'd gone over to the other side. Castillo met with him to ask him to turn himself in. He's big on this honor thing, remember. Jack pulled a gun...and Castillo killed him."

"Was he guilty?"

"According to his wife--who was former KGB--they both pretended to defect when they fell in love, so they wouldn't be killed. And Castillo was standing still right in front of him. The gun Jack was using wasn't no hand gun, he should have blown him away easy. Hmm...the autopsy showed that Jack was dying of cancer anyway."

"That's crazy Al, if he was dying anyway, why would he..." horrified, Sam cut off and glanced at Al. "...unless he _wanted_ Castillo to kill him," he finished.

"And he knew Castillo would do it."

Sam shuttered and turned away, hugging himself. He felt a strange affinity, although the situation was certainly the opposite from the one he shared with _his_ partner. Images flashed in his mind: Al in Vietnam, giving up his freedom for Sam. Their long friendship, the bond they shared...Al would die before hurting Sam, of that he was certain. "Crockett belongs with his partner."

"Well, that's not exactly perfect, either," Al said.

"Define not perfect."

"They're not like us." Al shrugged. "For one thing, Crockett tried to kill Tubbs. Twice."

"Will you stop pandering to this sensationalism of yours and tell the story from the beginning?!"

"We don't have all the details, but...hold on a minute," Al said, fiddling with the hand-link.

"And you want me to get them together..." Sam commented.

"Not me, Ziggy," Al responded firmly. "Besides, it wasn't his fault. Had personal problems, wasn't over his two marriages. You know how sometimes undercover agents get in so deep they lose themselves?"

Sam nodded. He understood that concept, on a personal level. It wasn't so much different from leaping.

"From what Ziggy can pull up, he was working with a drug family when there was some kind of explosion. It scrambled his brains, he thought he was really Sonny Burnett--his alter ego, the drug dealer."

Sam shivered, finding he had even more in common with Crockett. They'd both lost themselves to the dark side.

"For months, 'Burnett' was running with the crime family. Back at the station, they thought maybe he'd turned."

"Even his partner?" Sam asked, stricken by the apparent lack of loyalty bonds these people exhibited. When Sam had been given shock treatment during his leap into a psychiatric hospital and retreated into believing he was the people he'd leaped into, Al had been there every step of the way, the only thing that saved him from the insanity.

"Tubbs tried to reach Sonny, give him a chance. And if he hadn't been wearing a bullet-proof vest..."

"Tubbs let them put that on Sonny's permanent record?!" Sam blurted when it popped into his head. He vaguely remembered something...about Al. Something he'd kept off his friend's record...then he lost it.

Al gave a ghost of a smile. "Guess Tubbs got a little ticked off when Sonny tried to kill him a second time. Personally, I can't understand why."

Sam didn't know how to react to that...was Al serious? He finally smiled. "Okay, he wasn't responsible. But it must have hurt anyway. I can understand that. What happened next?" he asked, intrigued by the tale.

"They arrested Sonny. He broke out of jail to clear his name. Saved Tubbs' life too, in the end. After that, things started getting better between them."

"I get the impression they were really tight by the time this last case came along. A real team."

"Then you know what you have to do," Al said, not looking pleased.

"I guess..." Sam said uncertainly, glancing towards the door. "What did Tubbs say?"

"Did you really expect me to waltz into the Waiting Room and ask him if he wanted to screw his partner?? He won't talk to us anyway, he thinks we're the enemy. He's real protective of his partner, though."

Sam knew he should be getting back to the other room, he'd been gone a long time. But he was anxious to postpone the inevitable, despite--or maybe because of--his troubling reaction to Sonny. Then there was another, personal matter... "Al...what did you mean when you said, they're not like us?"

"I think you know," Al said, and disappeared.

XXX

It was getting cooler outside so Sam left the balcony, sitting down on the couch to think about everything Al had told him. He heard the shower cut off and a moment later Sonny strolled in, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Sam swallowed on a dry throat, even more nervous than he'd been before. His instincts told him Ziggy was right about his purpose, but that didn't make it any easier.

Would it be that horrible?

No, but it was scary beyond belief.

"Have I sprouted wings or something?" Sonny asked.

"Huh?" Sam blinked at him.

"Just wondered why you were staring at me."

"I was just...I need to talk to you."

"Okay, shoot," Sonny answered, while rooting around in his bag. He pulled out some clothes and started dressing.

Sam turned away, feeling a blush heat his face. He didn't know the first thing about seducing another man, but he was about to get a crash course. Bad enough the unfamiliar situation he found himself in...Sam was going to have to make the first move. Simple insecurity-- almost the same kind he'd feel in this situation with a woman--swamped him. He wasn't at all sure Sonny had really made any overt or even subtle signs that a come-on would be welcome.

Sonny had finished dressing and gotten himself another drink, and still Sam hadn't spoken.

"Whatever it is, it must be something heavy," Sonny observed quietly, sitting down close beside him. "You're usually a straight talker."

Sam mentally winced at the word 'straight'. "Oh, you'd be surprised," he answered. "I just thought...we had some things to say to each other. Maybe we haven't been honest enough about...things."

"Why?" Sonny said almost pleadingly. "It's over. Everything's over. Why dredge the past up now?"

"Maybe..." he took a deep breath. "Maybe it doesn't have to be over.. I mean, with us."

Crockett looked at him, and Sam could see the flicker of hope in the guarded brown eyes, quickly covered up. "For awhile I thought...you're right, there were things we should have talked about, that we just buried. I wanted to leave well enough alone. You were willing to be my partner again, and I didn't want to rock the boat."

Sam deduced that Sonny was talking about the time he'd lost his memory, and tried to kill his partner. "I think we both have a lot of unresolved feelings about that time." Now he sounded like a shrink. But he didn't know what else to do to get Sonny talking so he could figure out if he was on the right track.

Sonny seemed to be wrestling with himself. Finally he blurted, "Well, I was kinda...upset when you wouldn't help me get away so I could clear my name. I begged you..."

"I know how you must have felt.. because that's how I felt when you tried to kill me."

"You know it was because I didn't remember you. I was really messed up, I admit that."

"I know, _now_. But it hurt all the same. You were my partner, and you tried to kill me."

"Yeah, I guess that didn't exactly make your day," Sonny said with a trace of a smile and his wry humor. It was a pleasant sound.

Sam realized several things all at once. First, how lucky he was. He and Al had had their ups and downs, sometimes nasty fights, but he felt confident nothing like this could ever happen to them. Second, this line of amateur psychoanalyzing wasn't going to help anything. He wished he'd gotten Al to ask Dr. Beeks for advice. Third and most startling...he was definitely attracted to this man.

"If you still have a problem with that, why did you say what you did...about it not being over?" Sonny said haltingly. "I don't know where you're coming from here."

Throwing caution to the wind, Sam finally gave up and went with the direct approach. "You're right, Sonny, the past is gone. I want to start over. If you find yourself in the market for a partner...for anything: a bar, a bait and tackle, drug running..."

Sonny chuckled at the last one. "I bet we could be the best at whatever we did," he said speculatively, his eyes warm.

"As long as we're together," Sam whispered in agreement, the sentiment also going out to his own partner. It was definitely time to make his big move, but he was still paralyzed with fear.

"You're doing it again," Sonny said.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me like that again. If I didn't know better..."

"Maybe you don't," Sam said, hoping he'd get the message. Then he saw the glint of hope in the beautiful eyes again, and also the pain and uncertainty in the man's soul. Sonny was afraid, too. And maybe he had more to lose.

Gaining confidence with his desire to ease the troubled soul, Sam reached out and framed the face with trembling hands. The skin was rough with beard stubble; a new experience.

"Are you drunk?" Sonny asked cautiously.

"No."

Sonny's Adam's apple bobbed. "Are you gonna hate me in the morning?"

Sam shook his head, feeling drunk with new-found freedom of a sort he'd never imagined. "I promise I'll respect you in the morning." And than, because neither of them seemed inclined to make the first move, but someone had to, he leaned over and touched his lips to Sonny's.

The response he got was overwhelming. Sonny grabbed him in a tight hold, his mouth branding Sam's, tongue slipping inside. After a few precious moments of sweet discovery, they broke apart for air.

Sam was amazed by his own reactions. And judging by them, it wasn't going to be as difficult as he'd feared. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disturbed.

Forcing his mind back onto the leap, he locked gazes with Sonny. There was one more thing he had to be certain of, for Tubbs' sake. "What about Castillo?" he asked bluntly.

Sonny's eyes widened only slightly, as if the question wasn't all that unexpected. "Martin? It would never work. I need somebody who will put _us_ first before anything -- even duty and honor. Obsession..." he whispered. "It's one of my personality quirks, after all," he said more lightly, sharing a private smile with himself.

"Someone who would do anything for you," Sam took up the ball. "Give up his life, freedom..."

"Yeah."

"Like a partner..."

"What are you suggesting, partner?" It was said lightly, but the voice quivered.

Sam nodded. "I can't promise anything...but I think we can make it work." Longing to feel the intimate pleasures again, he ran his fingers through Sonny's hair, pulling him in for another kiss. His fingers unbuttoned Sonny's shirt almost of their own volition. Anxious to feel more of the man, he slid his hands inside. The skin was smoother than he'd imagined, warm and inviting. This man's whole body was inviting, and Sam's was more than ready to accept the invitation.

"We were off course for a long time," Sonny murmured. "But towards the end...it really felt like we were a team again. We moved like one person, man. It was almost like we could read each others' mind. I couldn't understand how we could give that up, after all we'd been through together."

"But you were afraid to make the first move," Sam supplied. "And so was I."

"We seem to have solved that problem too," Sonny noted.

They rose as one, and walked into the bedroom. As a newcomer to all this, Sam was grateful for the darkness and that Sonny didn't bother with a light. They undressed each other, stroking as they went along, igniting fires in both bodies. The unfamiliar but enticing feel of another man's hardness against his skin took away the last of Sam's uncertainty.

A flash of color in the corner of the room caught Sam's eye, giving him pause. The hand-link...Al. This night was made for discoveries; he found that knowing Al was watching only heightened his arousal. He wanted Al to watch. Dizzy with self-revelations, he tumbled them both onto the bed.

They rocked against each other, settling up a rhythm. Their tongues dueled, while hands explored a darkly mysterious territory. Sam took advantage of opportunity and cupped the gorgeous butt in his hands, squeezing in time with their thrusts. It was too much exquisite sensation to prolong. He hoped his partner was in as urgent a state as he; to make sure, he grasped Sonny's erection.

Sonny returned the favor, and together, they reached for release. The emotions: fear, love, loss, were a potent mix, and soon they fell over the precipice, reaching climax within seconds of each other. Working together flawlessly. Partners.

"Oh god, Rico," Sonny sobbed, as his body shuddered and his seed bathed Sam's stomach.

The orgasm was a release of old inhibitions, a glorious new awareness. "I love you," Sam breathed into Sonny's ear, but in his heart he knew the words were meant for Al.

XXX

It was still night. They lay in a naked, sweaty, tangled heap. Sonny was snoring faintly, his breath tickling Sam's neck where his face was buried.

Sam was too full of knowledge to sleep. He felt happy with what he'd done for the two men. Things were as they should be.

There was only one thing left to do...

"Al?" he called softly, careful not to wake Rico's lover.

"How'd you know I was here?" his partner asked warily, appearing at the foot of the bed, looking just slightly rumpled. Sam grinned at the sight, contemplating how he might have gotten that way.

"I could sense you."

"Well, you did it," Al began in a rush. Sam was content to wait for him to run out of steam. "Rico stays with Sonny, doesn't get killed. They're both living in Key West and working as private detectives. It's not the safest job, but then neither of them is the picket fence, nine-to-five type. The important thing is they're happy. I guess you're wondering why you haven't leaped yet?" He finally stopped talking.

"No, I know why. I haven't finished doing all I'm here to do."

"What are you talking about? What else are you here to do?"

Sam smiled at his partner, friend...and, if the fates would allow, lover. "To tell you how I feel about you. If you don't already know. I love you, Al."

Al's face light up at the soft words. "You think Whoever's leaping you around figures we deserve a happy ending too, huh?"

Sam nodded, feeling warmed by Al's gaze as he would another's touch.

"Me too, Sam. I love you."

With the knowledge that everything was right with Sonny and Rico, and with him and Al...Sam leaped.

**the end**

5/4/94

**Author's Note:**

> * Lost In Your Eyes, from the album "Heartbeat". 1986, by Don Johnson. Words and music by Tom Petty.  
> (Don Johnson is a great singer, check it out if you haven't already.)


End file.
